


Ghost Trick/Final Fantasy VI Ficlets

by Siver



Series: Final Fantasy VI/Ghost Trick [1]
Category: Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, FFVI GT AU, Final Fantasy VI AU, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-08-07 07:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 13,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16404284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siver/pseuds/Siver
Summary: A Ghost Trick Final Fantasy crossover au. Various small pieces throughout its timeline and what would be 'pre-game' or 'post-game'. Further information and context given in series notes.





	1. Birth

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a Ghost Trick Final Fantasy 6 AU created with [laughingpineapple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughingpineapple) and [azurefishnets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/azurefishnets/pseuds/azurefishnets) that's spun wildly out of our control and loving every minute of it.
> 
> For more read the wonderful [The Soul of a Queen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16318109) from [azurefishnets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/azurefishnets/pseuds/azurefishnets) for a tale in Doma
> 
> And the beautiful [Per Sempre Ognor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16407494) from [laughingpineapple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughingpineapple) including a handy spark notes version covering this sprawling au we've created.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early days. A new family member

Cabanela paced one way, then the other, from one of end of his room to the other, in an effort that would wear a hole in the stone if he could.

On one hand it rankled not being able to be there. Only the few and necessary were allowed. On the other the whole idea of it unsettled him more than he expected, so maybe not right there, but to be allowed to know sooner would be far preferable than this torturous wait.

A knock on his door caused him to spin round midway through his path.

“Enter,” he said, a little more sharply than intended, but it would be sharper if the interruption came for any other reason but one.

A maid came in with a bob of her head. “His Highness requests your presence, sir.”

“And the neeews?”

The maid’s face lit up with a bright smile. “Oh, it went very well, sir. The best news sir!”

Cabanela breathed out and was out the door before the maid could even turn back.

 

Jowd sat in a chair beside the bed where Alma slept, and in his arms he cradled a baby.

Cabanela grinned. “And heeere’s the new father.”

“There you are,” Jowd said with a large and proud smile. “Come meet Kamila.”

Cabanela took a long step forward. “And hello to youuu, little lady,” he said softly, looking down at the baby securely in Jowd’s arms.

There was, admittedly, not a lot to see. While he hadn’t seen many babies up close like this, it seemed to him one was much like another, but he would cast himself naked under the desert sun before telling Jowd that. He did, however, spot the tuft of lilac hair.

“Weeell,” he drawled. “I can see she has good taste already.”

Jowd’s eyes sparkled. “Oh it might be too early to see that. Do you want to hold her?”

Cabanela took an abrupt step back, raising his hands in protest. “She’s neeew to this world. Best to spend her first day with her parents.”

Jowd failed to stifle a laugh. “Come now. She won’t have her mother’s bite just yet!”

He shifted his hold slightly, pulling her closer to him, a tightening around his hold, but gentle all the same. Cabanela’s expression softened into a smile.

_Fatherhood suits you, baby. Who would have guessed?_

“Besides,” Jowd said. “She should spend it with all of her family.”

Cabanela circled Jowd and slipped behind him. He leaned over to slide his arms around his shoulders and looked between Alma and baby Kamila.

“That she wiiill, baby.”


	2. One Remains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freedom for one

Cabanela paced a circle around the seated man. He’d almost bound him, but that was all rather pointless, wasn’t it? He certainly wasn’t going anywhere. A body free to move if only he had the mind to match. Beautiful.

He stopped in front of him and caressed the slave crown around his head.

“Such a preeetty thing, isn’t it?”

It was fascinating, he decided, to see him up close like this. More than any mirror. He slipped two fingers under his chin and tilted his face up, turning it this way and that, studying. The curve of his nose, the angles in his face, the grey running through his hair as he knew it did his own. Truuuly fascinating.

Then he met his stare, empty of all thought. Revolting.

“Close your eyes.”

His smile widened as the order was obeyed.

“That’s a gooood puppet.”

He released him and stepped back. He gazed at the man, incapable of anything but his bidding and he found his fascination dwindling. It was pathetic, unfairly pathetic.

This sorry excuse was the man he came from? It had been so easy to bring him down and to watch him fall in front of Jowd’s cell.

Damn the man for making it that far. Making his life more difficult again.

Jowd… he saw the man’s confusion as his double fell. He had to resist the urge to go to him—“shh baby, you’ll understaaand.” He could leave him for now, but he would have to think of an explanation soon. It wouldn’t have to be complicated; the man had become such a good listener down there, safe in the dark and _he_ tried to destroy his efforts.

He looked at the seated man in disgust; he could hardly bare to attach his name to that.

“Youuu tried to take him away as if you ever looked after either of them, but I wiiill.” He stepped past him and bent to whisper softly in his ear. “You leeeft them. Traitor.”

He waited a moment in silence. No reply to sully his ears, a taste of what was to come.

He straightened and with a spring in his step, left the room. He was free of _him_. They would be his and his alone.


	3. Puppet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And nothing more...

It had been a looovely day. Every command was followed without fail. Their screams as lightning arced and flashed between each soldier, knocking them down into neat little rows of broken toys, still rang sweet music in his ears.

Cabanela pranced through the hall and his thumb rubbed over the small case he carried. Such good behaviour earned a reward and he’d been waiting with just the thing.

“Good eeevening,” he sang as he entered the small room.

His other sat in a chair in front of a large mirror placed at Cabanela’s personal request. He’d asked him before what he saw in the glass and delighted in imagining the possibilities. Today a new and beautiful sight would be seen.

“I have a giiiift for youuu my puppet,” he crooned.

He set his case down carefully. Every moment was to be savoured. Presents should be enjoyed after all.

“Such a loathsome helmet they place you in. That’s not our styyyle, is it?”

He smiled as he removed a delicate white mask. It held a deceptive fragility seemingly crafted of only the finest and strongest of materials. A fitting masterpiece.

He held it up in front of his face and looked past it at the chair.

“We always did like white, didn’t we?”

A gliding step carried him behind his other. He watched in the mirror as he slowly lowered the mask, his smile widening as his old face disappeared behind it until there were only hollow eyes in a white shell.

He ran his fingers across the mask in a gentle caress, framing it in his hands and met the empty stare in the mirror.

“Don’t you seeee? It’s a perfect fit. Nooow you are nothing.”


	4. Damaged Puppet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take better care of your toys

The stench of blood and scorched earth filled his nose. It was a downside to this whole messy affair, but what else could be done? Cabanela stepped lightly around bodies, twitching his cape away from some of the nastier spots—such stains couldn’t be tolerated—and let his gaze pass over the area. Broken bodies, burnt away areas of grass. Their own soldiers followed suit, gathering back together, reforming and other such military nonsense.

Now where could his toy have gotten to?

“Sir over here!”

A soldier waved him over then stood at near rigid attention but for the trembling in his legs.

Cabanela stared down at the sight before him. A ring of twisted armour, scattered weapons and more broken bodies and in the centre his puppet lay in a crumpled heap. He gave the mud and blood caked clothing a disgusted look. The mask, however, remained pristine, spotlessly white and almost glowing in comparison to the wreckage around it. Such a looovely thing.

“Is he aliiive?”

“Yes sir. Will you heal him…?”

“Heal? Do I like loook like a healer?”

The soldier started to shake his head then froze as if terrified to agree or disagree. “What do you want us to do, Sir?”

Cabanela gave him a flat stare. “Take him baaack or whatever it is you dooo. It’s not my concern.”

Cabanela spun round and danced back over the field. Let this be a beautiful monument to other fools who dared get too close to Vector. There were so many other far more interesting places to go than to be stuck defending this wretched place, but it was the very place they now had to return to. Such was the way of orders and reports and this day was starting to taste rather unpleasant.

 

Emperor Sith delicately set a grape aside to frown at Cabanela. “I’ve been told our weapon suffered quite a casualty my good man.”

Cabanela waved a flippant hand. “That’s what the doooc is for.”

“Yes, yes and you’re lucky for that. I’m not ready to lose him yet.”

“Yeeeet?” Then was it true that they had a certain something else up their sleeve? The doc had been as busy and uninformative as ever. “Something eeelse, perhaps involving a certain top secret, ah, mutt?”

“Egad man, how did you? That’s not for anyone to know!” Sith waved an admonishing finger at him. “Regardless of other projects, you’ll have him for a good while yet and maybe longer. If you don’t break him first. I expect better care next time.”

“Yes Your Majesty.” Cabanela bowed lowed, cape stretching out behind him and the floor received the look of disdain meant for Sith. He hopped up neatly. “If I may gooo?”

“Yes you may go. And keep that nose out of trouble!”

 _And perhaps you ouuught to keep your secrets better, oh Emperor._ And leave his affairs out of it. His puppet was still his to do with as he pleased regardless of any supposed half-esper buried deep in their most secret of labs.

 

Cabanela wasn’t sure what drove him, mere curiosity perhaps, but he found himself entering the Doctor’s lab.

His puppet lay limp across a table, stood over by the doctor. Cabanela eyed him with distaste. Gaunt and pale, but most importantly—“Where is the mask?” Cabanela demanded.

“Hmph. Don’t get uppity with me.” The doctor jerked his head toward a table. “It’s just over there. It was in the way.”

Cabanela strode over to it and snatched the mask up, spinning back on the doctor.

“It staaays on.”

The doctor snorted. “If you insist. No one else comes down here.”

Cabanela glared at him before turning his attention to _his_ face. It wasn’t quite like looking in the mirror anymore. Perhaps a bit more grey in the hair, face worn to sharper angles. It wasn’t enough. He delicately returned the mask and stepped back with satisfaction at the return to the way things should be.

“When can he be used?”

“I’ve done what I can,” the doctor replied. “But you’ve drained him and those were some nasty wounds he took. It’ll be a few days before he’ll be of much use for anything.”

“I seeee. Send him back to me when he’s ready.”

The doctor huffed through his mustache and waved him away. Cabanela ignored him to run a finger across the mask instead.

“Reeest up, dear puppet. You still have wooork to do.”

Only then did he turn and waltz out of the lab. Perhaps a visit with Jowd would improve this sour day.


	5. Strained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> En route to Kohlingen...

Lynne and Missile disappeared somewhere within the castle as it shuddered and made its descent. They made their way to Kohlingen now and Alma really wished she’d followed Lynne’s lead. Instead she’d found herself in the library, which would have been to her preference if he hadn’t also had the same idea.

She’d almost missed him which was an unusual feat in itself, but there Cabanela sat, tucked alone in a corner. There was a book abandoned on his lap. His arms were folded across his chest and legs stretched out in the one passing attempt at anything resembling relaxation.

Alma wanted to turn around right there and leave but she found her gaze drawn to him and she looked at him properly for the first time since Lynne brought him to the Elder’s home in Narshe. She’d been too worried, too shocked and too angry then to really see him. That anger only boiled on the parapets and she could almost still feel the sting in her fingers as she slapped him before storming away.

Such a stupid move. She hadn’t lost control of herself like that since she was young. The shock in his face had done nothing to cool her temper. And she left him with only questions.

Looking at him now she could almost believe she hadn’t seen him in five years despite evidence to the contrary. This drawn and haggard face wasn’t the face of the man she’d known five years ago.

But it didn’t belong to the man who stood too close to her as his finger slid down the wretched document he put before her either. Honey tones that didn’t match the regret his words spoke of as he tried to convince her that capitulating to the Empire was the only way forward—he wished it was any other way—and ‘don’t you waaant to see Jowd again, baby?’

A missing two years in his memory. Supposedly. Lynne certainly believed it to be true and she trusted her, but what of the Cabanela who tormented her over those past two years? Could one hold such awareness under the influence of a slave crown? That was an experience that didn’t appear to match Sissel’s and she wished he was here, but no that was who they searched for now. Under _his_ lead.

And even were it true it didn’t explain his appearance so recently right here on their doorstep as he tried to hunt Sissel down. But this face didn’t match him either. Prison did no one any favours but it wasn’t so long to give him such a tired and even… sickly appearance, something she never thought she’d attribute to him. Yet he was there, no doubt about it and without the slave crown. That still remained in Narshe.

And what of the man who appeared in Narshe at the head of an invasion force, masked, but so much like him, she didn’t feel she needed to see his face? What of him and discovering Cabanela had vanished from the very room he was supposed to be safely kept within, only to show up shortly after the battle? Complicating things further—that at least was so very him.

She felt as though she tried to build a puzzle of ill-fitting pieces. Nothing fit together and as something came close the pieces would only bend and fold apart.

Cabanela caught her gaze and she stiffened. How long had she been watching? How long had he been aware of her presence?

“Should I not be here?” he asked and she winced at the stiffness in his voice.

“No, it’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting you.”

“I suppooose your eyes are better than the others.”

She felt her temper flare again. What else could he expect? It was a wonder she didn’t have him locked up. She forced herself to breathe. A repeat would do no good here. Maybe he somehow really didn’t know why she’d want him watched. The pieces continued to fall apart.

“It’s just as much for your safety,” she replied coolly.

His gaze dropped and his shoulders followed. Resignation? She approached without thinking while he spoke up again, his voice lacking any rancour, more tired than anything. “I seeee.”

She reached out instinctively to touch his face and stopped. Old instincts drove her. Old gestures that no longer had a place here. Likely dangerous now. However, maybe her touch would find something her eyes failed to see, or confirm what she did see.

“Do you mind?”

He gave her a searching stare and then half shrugged with a nod. She felt a pang. That too wasn’t like him, but maybe entirely deserved after the parapets.

She ran a hand down his cheek, fingers picking out his cheekbones, running across his jawline. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, but he really had grown thinner—she didn’t think he had anything to lose. This close she could see the dullness in his eyes and deep shadows below. He tensed but didn’t flinch. He seemed to hold himself back as if to prevent himself from leaning into her touch. She drew back.

“What happened…?” she said softly and wasn’t sure she really meant to say it. She wished she hadn’t.

“Seeems you’d know better,” Cabanela replied, voice far too brittle and eyes too sharp for the lightness he tried to convey.

“I wish I did.” She abruptly turned away with all intentions to leave, but…

“Alma…”

His voice was softer now and she froze in place.

“Jowd was there. I saw him myself, I thought only recently. Maybe it was two years ago, but I tried again.”

She turned back.

“I knooow he’s still there. Tryin’ to get back sent me to the executioner. They didn’t want me down there, but I know where he is.” A fire burned in his eyes, seeming all the more intense in this new face of his. “I will bring him home.”

She felt there were a number of things she could say and could only manage one thing, her voice strained. “I hope that’s true.” Not enough. Right now, she wasn’t sure anything could be.

She turned back to the door. “We’ll be in Kohlingen soon.”

And they would continue on and she would watch. And maybe she would find a piece that fit.


	6. A Daring Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’ve returned to Jidoor and need a way to Vector. Cabanela and Alma discover a problem that leads to a perfect plan

They arrived in Jidoor. Lynne took off to see if she could find anything that might help them find a way to Vector. Alma and Cabanela took to the tavern in hopes of information. Flowing drinks makes for flowing talk, Cabanela had said.

So far it hadn’t gone very well. They heard much about the opera that would start this very evening and not a lot about anything else.

Maybe they would be better served elsewhere, Alma thought when Cabanela abruptly stood.

“I’ll be baaack in a jiffy,” he said and sauntered over to the bar.

Alma stared after him. She watched as he bought a drink, but rather than return he veered off to another table where a lone man sat. What on earth was he up to? She rose as well and joined him at the table where she got her answer.

She hadn’t realized from farther back as bowed down as he was, but now she was certain she recognised the man, as many years as it had been since she and Jowd had partaken in the opera. The Impresario.

She didn’t get a chance to speak before Cabanela swept in.

“And what’s troublin’ youuu?” Cabanela asked as he took a seat and placed the tankard before the Impresario.

The Impresario looked up in anguish. He gaped. “D-Draco?!”

“Paaardon?”

He shook his head. “No… no, I’m sorry. I just thought, ahem. You looked so much like him.” He dropped his head into his hands with another groan. “And that, of course, would have been too good. This is terrible.”

“What’s terrible?” Alma asked.

More shock ran across the man’s face as he looked up again. “Your Majesty?” he squeaked.

Alma lifted a halting hand. “Yes, but not here. Will you please tell us? There might be something we can do to help.”

He took a slow deep breath and slid a letter toward them. “It’s this… this letter. It’s a disaster.”

Cabanela scooped it up and flipped it open with a flourish. She watched his eyes dart across the paper before he abruptly burst out laughing. She blinked in surprise. This was an act she hadn’t seen nor heard in a long time as his laughter rang out bright and merry, and she realized how much she’d missed it. The Impresario, however, looked more disgruntled than ever.

“Ha! This is perfect!”

“Perfect?!” the Impresario spluttered. “It’s a catastrophe! This will ruin everything!”

Alma sighed. Patience, patience. “Care to explain?”

Cabanela waved the letter with a broad grin and passed it to her. “We’ve just found ourselves a way to Vector, baby!”

The letter was short and she immediately understood the Impresario’s panic, though Cabanela’s amusement remained a mystery.

_Dear Draco,_

_Prepare for the grandest act yet. I’m coming to take you away, oh husband-to-be. Can’t wait for the show._

_-Memry_

Alma looked up. “A kidnapping? Who is this Memry?”

“You mean you don’t know?” the Impresario asked in disbelief. “You haven’t heard of her? The wandering gambler and adventurer extraordinaire aboard the only airship in the world?”

“I see. And this ‘wandering gambler’ is coming for Draco… The opera singer?”

“Yes!” he wailed. “What am I supposed to do? The show will be ruined!”

“Don’t you seeee?” Cabanela asked. Alma shot him a look.

She knew that tone too, one that stated the answer was obvious and he couldn’t understand how no one else could see it. His eyes shone bright and Alma didn’t dare imagine what insane scheme was running through his head.

“We let her take ‘Draco.’”

“We can’t!”

“Ah!” Cabanela hushed him with a raised finger. “We let her _think_ she’s taken him while the real shooow goes on!”

“It can’t go on without him!”

Cabanela sighed. “It wooon’t becaaause she’ll have me,” he said patiently.

“I don’t understand.”

Alma’s heart sunk. He couldn’t possibly mean… Surely he couldn’t be serious and now he was turning his attention to her.

“I take over the first act. She makes her no douuubt grand entrance and whisks me away. The rest of you can follow us and we’ve got ourselves an airship baby!”

The Impresario’s hand clenched around the tankard like it could anchor him into a reality that wasn’t this one.

“No, no, no!”

Cabanela interrupted him. “ _Meanwhile_ the real Draco comes back and continues the show!”

“I… but you… but him…”

“I know you can sing,” Alma said worriedly. “But opera?”

“Draco and Maria, yeees? I know the songs. I’ll be fiiine baby and good enough for Memry.”

The Impresario sagged. “You can really do it? You’ll save him?”

“Not just him!” Cabanela hopped up with a shining smile at Alma. “Come on. We’ve got a shooow to save.”

“Then… then please make your way to the opera house as soon as possible,” the Impresario said with a mixture of relief and worry and the general appearance of a man still considering the possibility of drowning himself in his tankard.

Cabanela swept him a bow then danced out of the tavern. Alma followed after, uncertain whether to be worried or relieved that they had some kind of plan. As absurd as it was it still put them a step ahead of where they were.

“Are you really sure you can do this?”

“Of couuurse!”

And even if he wasn’t sure there was no stopping him now, Alma thought. He was practically walking on air.

Something in her ached. Had she really understood just how weighed down he’d seemed until now? This excitement was in stark contrast to the past several days. He was so very… _him_. She tried to convince herself to stop missing him. Now she knew how much she really did. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down, but maybe… just maybe for a short while she could enjoy this time.

They met up with Lynne who appeared far more dejected.

“Nothing,” she sighed. “I haven’t found anything useful. At least not yet,” she added firmly. “What about you? What do we do now?”

Cabanela cast an arm out. “That’s an easy one, baby. We’re goin’ to the opera!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And to continue on to the Opera itself, swing on by [ Azurefishnet's work here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16618724)


	7. Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's split from the others but it's an opportunity for another rescue

Almost there. Cabanela spared little of his attention to anything but watching and listening. This time he would make it. Third time’s the chaaarm. Failure wasn’t an option.

He slipped through the hall on silent feet. He’d passed through here twice before. It strangely felt like more, like walking a route he knew so well he could pay it no attention and let his feet do the guiding. No such lapses could be afforded here.

There just ahead, the cell.

He could laugh. He really could as he stared into the empty cell. He made it this time. He made it all too late. His heart pounded. Was this a good sign? A bad? His final failure?

As he stared a thought rose with the slimmest ray of hope. Was it possible? Could he have made it? Would he leave word after all this time? After everything? How much did he know? He hadn’t seen him since his departure to Thamasa last month—two years ago.

There had to be something.

 

There was a comfort in passing through their secret ways again. Often their meetings held accompanying tension, but not always. He was always happy to see Cidgeon when he returned and hear news of how Kamila fared.

He hoped she was still well.

He hoped he was okay.

He passed through the entrance to their hideout and automatically went for the lantern.

Tension thrummed through him. This was it. He would return to them with wonderful news or he would return worse than empty handed. No Jowd, no news, no knowing if he was alive or dead anymore.

He went for the desk first, always left tidy and his heart skipped a beat. There, by the chair was a small paper. He reached for it, hope swelling in his chest but he didn’t dare hold onto it yet until their shared code, known only to them, met his eyes. A message for his eyes only.

It was the shortest message he’d ever seen from him. He could translate it almost as fast as reading it in plain language. Then he had to read it again to make sure he translated correctly. The shortest message bearing the most meaning.

_Have Jowd._

Have Jowd… He had him. He was out, he was safe.

Cabanela fell back into the chair.

He was safe.

He read and reread the words, pinning them to the paper before they could fade. Before they could fall away to another failed hope. Before this turned into another lost dream.

His hands trembled and he tightened his grip. This could not be allowed to slip away.

The words blurred. No! No, this was real! He was holding it. He felt it in his hand. He read those words repeatedly.

Blurred until his eyes stung and tears left warm trails down his cheeks.

When was the last time he cried? He couldn’t recall. Now he wept freely, gaze still fixed on the note, on those two simplest most important words, until at last with a shuddering breath he wiped his eyes with his scarf.

The note was slipped reverently into his pocket as he took to his feet. There was still work to be done. He would find a way out of the Empire and back to them. The professor would take Jowd to Thamasa. He would bring Alma and Lynne the very best news and they could all go and meet them there.

He felt so light in a way he could hardly remember. Everything would be all right.


	8. Drifting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they cross the ocean what else is there to do but think?

Cabanela was supposed to be sleeping. They took their watches in turn, alone in a vast ocean that seemed endless. They had to stay rested and one always had to remain alert. He ought to be sleeping so he would be ready to take over for Cidgeon.

Instead he stared at the sky, which was a sight not much better than the waves around them. His thoughts turned over and over and round and round with so little else to focus on and sleep felt like an impossibility. He wasn’t sure he really minded that.

He could avoid dreams if not his memories or his worries.

It was clear where this all began from his memories and from simple logic. There was only one time that made sense.

_The lab was cold. The techs’ expressions weren’t much better considering the undertaking they were about to take. Magic. If this worked he would have it. It was exciting and if there was a seed of anxiety he did his best to ignore it. Magic._

_He let himself be guided to a table and was told to lay on it, all brusque orders and detachment. Maybe he was just another experiment, but it didn’t matter to him then. It would all be worth it. Failure or worse hardly crossed his mind._

_The unease only started when they started to bind him down and he had to resist an urge to fight back. There were no doubt good reasons for it, some sort of safety precaution or some such. He didn’t have to suffer it for long as he was given something and soon lost consciousness._

_And that was all. He thought. He woke in a bare and empty room surrounded by stone walls, hardly more than a cell. Another cool voice he vaguely recognized from the lab spoke to him, questioning how and what he felt._

_The room soon made sense when lightning suddenly arced from his hand to dance harmlessly off the walls. Nothing to damage here and testing began. He took to it with an ease that surprised even him._

_And after, training began. In retrospect it was almost laughable as if any of them really knew what they were doing, but he worked it out. He grew into full control until it felt more natural to him than any sword swing._

And that was everything, wasn’t it? He’d thought so. But something else happened didn’t it? It was the only time that made sense when he willingly gave himself over to them with no knowledge of what else was planned.

Did it matter what he knew? If he hadn’t been so reckless, so hungry for more. So… childish. Magic! This mysterious force that supposedly didn’t exist anymore in his own hands! What could be better?

One decision led them down this ruinous path. Maybe it wasn’t these exact hands that rent the world apart but he put them there.

Maybe he even did help.

_He flung himself at the statue in a last desperate move, felt it slide and the jester was pinned between all three while he staggered back gasping and struggling not to hit the ground right there under the weight of wild magic and his growing pain._

_His own laughter but wilder rang in his ears as his other threw back his head and laughed and laughed._

_“Yes of couuurse! We’ll destroy it all together my dear old puppet!”_

_Maybe he was right. Maybe not. Everything was so wrong the extra push felt meaningless and if it kept him at bay that was all that mattered. As long as they had the time to escape._

Cabanela’s eyes wandered over a passing cloud. They did have time for that much. For the briefest time they had made it. Where were they now? What were they doing?

What would he find?

What would they think of… him?

_Their swords crossed and he stared into his eyes for the first time. He saw anger. He saw laughter. He saw himself in a mirror. His face beside a mask. A memory? A dream? He nearly lost control of his gathering spell and the jester drove him back a step._

_He saw madness._

_“I thought I waaas you. Joke’s on both of us. You are nothing and I have become something so much mooore, baby.”_

Cabanela shuddered. Had he too woken up in a cell of a room thinking he’d only woken from the augmentation? What happened to him? What caused… that?

It would be comforting to think that… thing was always such, made that way and nothing more. So easy, so easy if he could forget words said and looks thrown his way. So easy… if he didn’t see himself in there. So easy if he could look in a mirror without wondering what would stare back out.

They waited for him. He held to that. They waited.

His hand drifted to the cloth and he gripped it. One at least was out there and he knew with everything he had he wouldn’t be the only one.

What they thought of him didn’t matter in the end. His grip tightened. Just let him see them all safe this time.

Sleep never did come. As he sat staring into the horizon, willing the dark shape of land to appear, his fingers twisted over and around the cloth. His thoughts wound down to a core of one simple truth. They were there. He would find them. Nothing more. Nothing less.  


	9. Distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jowd and Cabanela have finally met back up in the World of Ruin. They travel on with Cidgeon.  
> Naturally talking is out of the question

Their campfire blazed merrily. Not at all fitting to the atmosphere over their camp, Jowd thought and turned over again, making the count some unknown number of times.

Cidgeon was asleep, Lovey-Dove nestled in the crook of his arm. It was nice to know two of them were getting some rest—something that continued to elude him this night.

Jowd stared at the sky. Where were they? Did Alma see these same stars? Kamila?

A low mutter reached his ears almost missed under the crackling flames. He turned his head. Cabanela sat on one side, his knees up and arms loosely over them. Jowd knew he should turn his attention away. He certainly shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but he couldn’t seem to pull his attention away.

“Five not three. Five, no.” A sigh. “Six, six years, not five. Six years, not three. Six, not three. Three… six… Thirty six… conveeenient.”

Jowd grimaced. Cidgeon had flatly quashed any doubts as to Cabanela’s identity, but Jowd found it hard to look at him and see only the Cabanela he once knew and not the other one. Not the one who visited him so regularly and whispered in his ear. Not the one he let pull him down further into the darkness. Not the one who… yes Jowd had seen Cabanela over those two years even if neither of them knew it while the other paraded him around. He pushed the thought aside with an inward shudder. _That_ wasn’t Cabanela either. But, he should have known… He didn’t.

Helpless. Hopeless. The both of them.

It was one connection they still had, he supposed, but it didn’t help to clear his sights. Moments like these might have helped for their content; his loss was clear. Yet, Jowd had never known him to mutter like this to himself. An almost feverish muttering, not so unlike what he caught from the other one. When it came down to it, just how similar were they?

How much did that question haunt Cabanela?

Jowd stared into the dark spaces between the stars. But, that wasn’t the only problem, was it? He knew he was trying to see the old Cabanela, but he didn’t exist anymore, did he? And he knew all about that. He wasn’t sure he existed anymore either.

This was a third. Six years took their toll on them all. Three and six, convenient indeed.

In the end, there was a simple truth. He didn’t, couldn’t know what to expect anymore.

Cabanela quieted. Jowd looked his way again. He was quiet, but he remained sitting. The firelight flickered over him, lighting some areas and casting deep shadows over others. He briefly considered going to him. Then what?

Likely make things worse was what. He rolled over away from the fire and Cabanela to stare into the old familiar darkness until he finally fell asleep.

Morning dawned dim and grey. Cabanela had woken before them and pulled together a breakfast of sorts with what they had. As the night’s events came back to him Jowd wondered if he _had_ slept. Cabanela seemed to be all over, cleaning up and getting them ready to go, making it difficult to catch any hints one way or the other and he couldn’t bring himself to try to study him long enough to figure it out.

However, as they traveled through the morning Jowd drifted closer to Cabanela. They weren’t merely walking in a group of three. They walked together.  


	10. Solace in Feathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A companion in the night

Cabanela drifted away from their small camp. Close enough to return quickly should trouble arise, but far enough for some modicum of privacy. The professor was more than capable of looking after things for a few minutes. As was Jowd naturally. Always. And he shifted uneasily even as he’d craved this moment away.

Never would he think the close confines of the campfire’s light in an empty world could be so stifling. Once, he wouldn’t have expected nothing to weigh so heavily. Hard lessons learned.

He stared into the deepening darkness. From dim and dreary to a chill darkness and back was their monotonous cycle now. It wasn’t new; after all the island had been no different. Alone and isolated, a prison in itself. It had seemed simple—find the mainland and somehow things would be better; they couldn’t possibly be _worse_ than the lonesome island. Seeing the land he once knew intimately ruined and changed beyond recognition dashed that hope.

Theirs was a land barren and seemingly devoid of life, until twisted and tormented creatures crossed their path. A deadened world.

But, not entirely lifeless…

He spun round, hand to going his sword hilt and lightning at his fingertips…

“Wark!”

And relaxed as the chocobo stepped into his sights.

“Youuu were supposed to stay at the camp,” he said as he stepped up to meet the bird and stroke her neck feathers.

“Wark wark!” she replied, seemingly unbothered by this fact.

Cabanela reached into his pouch where he’d squirrelled away some gysahl greens from their main stock for treats throughout the day.

“Heeere you are,” he said, holding the greens out.

She plucked them delicately from his hand and once finished, briefly pranced in place.

Cabanela managed a small smile at the display. She bobbed her head, bringing it over his shoulder. Without a second thought he abruptly wrapped his arms around her in an embrace and buried his face in her plumage. He breathed in the scent of chocobo and thought of another time of heat and sand and laughter…

Another lower wark rumbled through her and he shuddered and dug his fingers deeper into her feathers. He clung to her, to memories, to simplicity, to small joys that at least one among them could still partake in. A soft touch unburdened by the past or present.

In time he reluctantly broke away. Too long away from the camp had passed already. They had to go back.

Man and bird returned to the camp. The professor was curled under his cloak, eyes open, watching their fire, with Lovey-Dove nestled in the crook of his arm. Jowd sat on watch, as remote as a distant mountain peak. Cabanela stared for a moment and said nothing.

When he settled it was against the chocobo’s side, and he slept, her wing rested over him.


	11. Not His Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment in a less than happy return to Figaro in the world of ruin

Cabanela gripped the stone as he stared out into the desert. The sight before him hadn’t changed much. It would be comforting if more than the sands had remained a constant. It was never the sight he truly loved either.

That came at night while the stars shone bright above, blanketing the sky and the moon’s glow bathed them in silver while they lay up here on this tower, star gazing and talking deep into the night. Just the three of them, away from daily responsibilities, no restraints on time and no restraints on them.

One day and it all went wrong. Further back, one decision and this terrible path began.

In the end he did bring the king and princess back with hope strong in their hearts to find their queen and that hope was also dashed as so many things had been. The people rejoiced at their king’s return and their castle brought back to safety. Kamila was gazed upon with love and surprise—how the princess has grown! There were fearful questions after the queen’s status and location that couldn’t be answered. But overall, a joy.

And for a brief spell Cabanela looked on with fondness and felt a small piece of that joy. This was a start and they would bring Alma back as well. Then looks turned on him and he felt his heart crack all over again as king instead of queen once more had to step in on his behalf.

He was vouched for by the man who struggled to look at him and he counted his blessings.

He’d made his way back here to an old familiarity while ignoring suspicious gazes filled with hate and pretending not to notice tightening grips on weapons.

It would be nothing but a relief to arrive in Kohlingen and that hurt all over again too. This wasn’t a home anymore. Not that it ever could be while one went missing.

He felt the stinging threat in his eyes and blinked it back. He would stand firm. Nothing was over. He would stand fast until he found them their happy endings.

“Uncle Cabs?”

Kamila approached and stood beside, staring up at him. No fear or anger there and yet somehow still unbearable to look at. No anger at broken promises made that night so long ago to widened eyes over a set mouth. He would bring her father back soon. This wouldn’t last, but she had to be safe. Five years to see that promise filled by another and yet she had been so happy to see him. She saw _him_.

“We’re going to dive soon,” Kamila said. “They’re going to announce it, but I thought I saw you come up and wanted to tell you myself.”

“On my waaay.”

She took his hand in a tight grip and the slight tug told him exactly who was guiding who here and he fell in step with her.

“I missed you, Uncle Cabs,” she said with an earnest sincerity that wedged into one of those cracks.  

He managed to give her a small smile with less force than all he’d been able to summon previously. “You toooo, kiddo.”

“And I know we’ll find mama soon,” she said with such firmness it seemed to him the universe had no choice but to listen and he felt a small swell of pride in her.

“That we wiiill,” he agreed.

As he followed Kamila back into the castle he knew this: he would see them together. Regardless of all else, regardless of where he stood, he would see this precious family reunited.


	12. Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early-ish World of Ruin, post-getting airship, pre-getting Alma back.
> 
> Mirrors ain’t fun anymore

Cabanela lay awake and as he surfaced to more present thoughts, he realized he had no idea how much time had passed. It wasn’t time lost to sleep—that had become a lost cause after a short but nightmare fueled hour, couple hours—did it really matter? He should have just gotten up. Spent time on the deck where the world could provide a distraction—maybe not a pleasant one in its current state—but better than the four walls. Well, he could rectify that now, blurred eyes or no.

He swung his legs off the bunk and stood. A look in the small mirror confirmed he looked about as bad as he felt, but some of that could be mended as well…

He sat frozen behind a mask, while his face loomed over his shoulder.

_‘Who’s the thiiing now, my puppet?’_

The spell flew from his fingers before he could stop it. He staggered back a step, gasping in a breath, as the mirror shattered under the force of the small lightning bolt.

He touched his face. Only skin. He was in control. That was over. He was in control now and always. His gaze rested on the scattered shards and danced away from the larger chunks. Mostly. This couldn’t be allowed to happen again either; he was better than this.

He struggled to slow his breathing, tried to think past his buzzing thoughts to remember what Alma used to say. Still said. Would say. He’d hear it again. She was out there.

It was four in and some such. It always sounded simple enough–strangely less so in practice. Alma used to have such a lot to say before he destroyed their lives and their world. And suddenly he didn’t know which ‘he’ he referred to anymore.

_'My puuuppet…’_

Helpless… Powerless… How much had he been made to do? How much destruction had he caused? He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t stop any of it. He…

“Whoa! What happened?” Memry’s sharp tones rang through his ears. “I already lost one airship! Don’t start wrecking things on this one too!” She leaned on the entrance with a glare at the broken glass across the floor.

Cabanela couldn’t help a smile even as his heart continued to pound a rapid beat in his chest. Nothing like Memry’s dulcet tones to snap him back into reality.

She crossed her arms over her chest and surveyed him with a frown. “And we don’t need you keeling over either. You look like something a chocobo stomped on.”

Cabanela shrugged her off, not quite trusting his voice in a mouth gone dry, and waltzed passed her into the corridor.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Memry demanded.

A quick swallow then—“A broom!” Cabanela replied with every bit of cheer he could muster. He patted the wall. “Can’t leeeave your baby in such a state, can I?”

“Hmph fine. But don’t let it happen again, you hear me?” she called after him as he strode down the hall.

It wouldn’t. He’d make sure of that. There were too many things he’d lost control of, not least himself for too long. He had to do better. He would do better. One more silent promise in a growing list and he would see them all filled.


	13. Airship Quiet Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few moments on the airship

“Missile,” Lynne softly called.

Odd. Where was he? He was usually at her side or Kamila’s but Kamila hadn’t seen him either. Where could he have gone? The airship wasn’t that big.

She made another pass by their quarters and almost missed it for the partially closed door. She backed up a step and peeked in with a slowly broadening smile. There he was.

Cabanela was asleep on his side on the bunk and there was Missile curled up in his arms. One of his balls lay on the floor nearby.

Good, Lynne thought, for both of them. Missile certainly needed the playtime, anything to use up some of that energy and Cabanela… well Cabanela needed _something_. A lot somethings and what better way to start than with puppy play time?

Lynne backed very carefully and slowly away from the room. There was no need to risk waking either and Missile could be surprisingly sharp sometimes.

_Sleep well, guys._

* * *

“I’m just saying,” Memry said as she idly tapped her cards, “you might be able to learn a thing or two from him, Mr. Thinks he can just take my opera singer. He’s not just good at chicken you know.”

“I don’t doooubt his abilities,” Cabanela said mildly. “He does do a good chicken.”

“And?”

“Aaand I have to wonder at you pushin’ him over your opera singer.”

Memry shrugged and grinned. “Gotta start somewhere!” She set her cards down with a huff. “But not here. I fold.”

“Tch, bad mooove, baby,” Cabanela said brightly, laying out his own cards.

Memry glowered at them. “Oh come on. Right! Deal.” She pointed at him. “Your dessert’s mine, _baby.”_

* * *

Breathe in, hold, and out. Hold. They were in sync in their own private bubble away from the rest. Alma smiled through the descending moment of peace for just the two of them. It had hardly taken anytime at all to match once more. Back to back with Jowd, back to back with her husband again.

With her eyes closed like this, feeling his presence, feeling _him_ , she could almost believe they were back in Figaro. They weren’t. The low sound of the airship’s engine dashed that notion. But, for now, it was close and for now this was enough.

* * *

Cidgeon sat in a corner of the deck with a book while Lovey-Dove waddled around him, occasionally poking at the wood. They were landed for now and there was a soft breeze. It was peaceful, but most of all it was _quiet._

“Grampa?”

He looked up, surprised by Kamila’s solemn tones and she stood with her hands clasped in front of her.

“Can I sit by you?” she asked.

He nodded toward the space beside him. “What’s wrong?”

She took a seat and fidgeted with her hands. “I was just wondering… when this is all over what are you going to do? The Empire’s gone and you shouldn’t go back there anyway! But… what will you do? Go back to Thamasa?”

What would he do? He hadn’t given it a lot of thought yet. Thamasa was certainly a possibility if of course he survived this. If any of them survived this.

“I don’t know yet.”

“I was thinking, you could come to Figaro!” Her eyes lit. “You’d love it there and I bet you could teach our engineers a thing or two and, and we could all be together. Mama and Papa and Uncle Cabs and Lynne and you.”

He took in her shining eyes. Figaro—well it wasn’t an impossibility.

“I’ll consider it,” he said and almost hit the deck as Kamila suddenly flung her arms around him.

“Oh thank you, gramps!”

He patted her awkwardly on the back. “Consider,” he repeated pointedly.

Kamila hopped up. “I know! But I’m just glad you’re thinking about it.”

He shook his head with a slight smile as she hurried off back toward the cabin. What a kid.

Figaro huh?

 


	14. A Time to Treasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slow rebuilding of ties

The airship is a dark mass behind them. The others stayed within, but they left on a silent decision made between the three of them. Now they sit close on one side of a small fire. It’s their time, their hopeful brief peace amidst the constant fears and drive to move on. It’s a time for them and them alone.

Maybe it’s the firelight shadowing and lighting his features in different ways, maybe it’s the growing urgency or maybe it’s the new growth of a different familiarity. But this time Jowd finds he can look at Cabanela freely. It’s not the face he remembers, but it’s not a different face he knows all too well in the bleakness of a cell either.

He’d noticed before over the course of their journey. This is the first time he’s truly given himself time to study. Maybe with an artist’s eye, maybe with something more. Angles, seem to his eye, more prominent. There’s a set in his jaw that’s more than determination, the force driving him through this mess of their lives. He notes the lines and shadows he hopes are allowed to fade given time, given peace and rest.

His head turns, catches Jowd’s stare. The light catches his eyes and there’s an old glimmer there with a slight tug at his mouth. And for a moment he’s back in Figaro. They’re in their quarters and he’s wondering if the man draped across the chair understands proper furniture usage (and he wonders why it’s so fascinating to watch). The look fades, a brief and rarer sight these days, but as he holds onto this moment he realizes he’s been treasuring each and every one. And he realizes this is a moment he doesn’t want to end.

He’s cautious in his movements, uncertain himself, but he rests a hand on his shoulder and when that’s accepted he finds himself lifting his hand—maybe an artist’s hand, maybe more—to brush against the grey running through that hair. Still tidy, still contained along his temples, running through to the back, but noticeably more than he remembers from the scattering of grey when he came back so many years ago with magic dancing at his fingertips.

His breath comes slow and a shudder sounds through it. Jowd pulls back immediately. His mouth starts to open—maybe it’s admonishment, maybe the look shot back his way is something else; he almost sees apology and hopes he saw wrong; maybe his own eyes fail him. Nothing comes out in the end and his gaze returns to the fire and there’s a downward cast to it.

But there’s a hand in the grass and it doesn’t twitch away when Jowd softly covers it with his own. 

 

Alma sees Jowd’s motions, unexpected, or maybe not, but something in her warms. She doesn’t know if she unintentionally matched her breathing to the man between them or if he matched to hers. Maybe it doesn’t matter. They’re in sync and it feels right.

Cabanela’s poise is different, she’s come to notice. There’s a tension in his fluidity and at times, if she could dare bring herself to believe it, even a hesitance in some of his movements as if he doesn’t always quite know what to expect from himself.

She remembers in the old days, when she first came to watch him. She remembers a casual grace, certainty in every movement. Certainty in himself, a man fully in control in a way she wasn’t used to seeing in many and a sight that was hard not to watch. He’s not what he once was to them, but she realizes he’s not to himself either and she can only wonder at that for a man who knew himself best.

She once thought she didn’t know him anymore—she never wondered at the idea that she might not be the only one. She remembers her father telling her a person’s face told a story, but what was one to do when parts of the story were unreadable to even its bearer?

She realizes she’s staring, but not before he catches it first. He looks at her and their eyes meet. There’s a softness in his gaze and maybe sadness and maybe something else—a light that reminds her of other nights. Nights when his voice washed over them in song and his laughter rang freely mingling with their own. It’s still there she knows and she finds herself longing for the day it can come again.

She shifts a bit, just enough to bring her closer to him, almost touching. Her breath has quickened as his has. She slows it, waits, and he matches. 

 

The crackling fire fills their silence. The stars wink down on them. And together they realize this is one moment they’re allowed to treasure.


	15. Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It doesn't have to last to be treasured

They had gathered wordlessly into one corner of the airship, just the three of them away from the others. They would come to the tower soon. It was the last chance to rest and prepare.

Cabanela took a spot on the floor, legs stretched out, one ankle crossing the other, while his hands played through a deck of cards, but his thoughts wandered elsewhere. Alma sat close, her sword across her lap. She was still, statuesque and, while Cabanela had to look away, she radiated a calm that eased away some of his tension. Jowd busied himself with paintbrush and canvas, absorbed in his own world.

There wasn’t much time left. This could be their last time together, but there wasn’t space for words. And while he knew it _could_ be, he was determined to do everything in his power to make sure it wasn’t. There was no knowing what exactly lay ahead, but a time would come to share words again. One way or another. They would see each other again in the end. This would end.

A step beside him dragged him from thoughts wandering into the past, and he realized Jowd had risen. Jowd knelt silently, placed something on the floor and returned to his seat.

Cabanela’s breath caught. There was a single rose. A long held favourite. It was beautiful and a gift unseen since their world slid into ruin.

He looked up at Jowd, seeking an explanation, but he was already lost in the canvas once more as if he’d never stopped.

In his heart no explanation was needed.

He reached out cautiously to touch the rose, almost afraid that such a simple act might cause it to disappear. Delicate, so very delicate, an ephemeral thing. As he gently lifted it, his eyes tracing over every curve of its petals, it seemed to catch the light, showing a subtle blend of colours more than the simple red that appeared at a glance. Paint brought to life and Jowd’s touch ran through it all.

It couldn’t last. It would disappear shortly, but he knew he would hold onto it for a long time to come.


	16. Affirmation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A final confirmation

Under blue skies dotted by white clouds it was almost difficult to believe he was in the same place. The barren plains, however, seemed as endless as ever and the rubble scattered far and wide was all the confirmation he needed.

He and the professor had tried to avoid the shadow of the tower before. Now Cabanela found himself drawing closer to its former centre. He wasn’t entirely certain of what he sought. As he picked his way through broken stone and twisted metal he only knew he wasn’t satisfied yet.

Something clinked under foot and he stepped back. A small length of warped and scorched metal lay amongst the rubble. At a glance it was no different from the rest of the wreckage, but something compelled him to lift it. He turned it round in his hands as a different image surfaced, one of a silvery band tossed into the air for lightning to do its work. An explosion and bits raining around them.

It was impossible to tell what the piece of metal once belonged to, but he was never one to ignore his gut. He held it up, studying it almost curiously. Strange to think how this little piece of metal stole two years of his life. It was… nothing now. No more than the rest of the surrounding rubbish. He tossed it aside and moved on.

There was no doubt of the centre as he reached it and a sudden tension coursed through him. His skin crawled with the phantoms of non-existent magic. The tower’s peak flattened around him.

Pinned, held aloft, struggling against the wires that bound him. His own laugh twisting his insides. Pain… such pain and the heat of his blood. He sought out Jowd and Alma in the chaos, committed every detail before his vision faded. They still fought. It wasn’t over. It wasn’t over…

A breeze blew through his hair and he gasped out a breath. It was over. It was all over. His gaze wandered over the ruins and he committed a very different sight to memory. He was gone, shattered along with his tower; neither were a blight on the world anymore.

His breath came more easily as tensions faded. The Jester’s Monument, a broken monument to nothing and he turned away. There was work to be done and a new world to see.

 


	17. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year later after the world is saved it's time to come home...

Cabanela walked alongside Lynne down these old familiar halls toward the throne room. He matched her ease and felt none of it. The letter weighed on him as no small piece of paper should with careful words he read as Alma all over. Too careful that they stung until his eyes fixed on three simple words at the end and stuck.

_We miss you._

_As I miss you._

So much. Painful and comforting all at once. He could all too easily imagine them in their desert castle and he was grateful that he could. They were safe and living their lives. He heard of the many times the castle was seen going back and forth as they sent aid and support out to anywhere they could get it. They lived their lives this past year as he lived his.

He missed them so very much and could only be thankful they were there to miss.

Three simple words carried him through their flight back. Three simple words urged hesitant feet forward. Three simple words buoyed him above the thought of having to face this amongst the onlookers of the court.

Rindge pushed the doors open for them and stepped aside as they entered to a nearly empty room. Only Jowd and Alma were there, standing in front of the thrones. They stepped forward as they approached and they met halfway.

Cabanela hung back a step as Lynne hugged them both while Missile danced around their feet. Eyes flicked back and forth and he could feel a building tension until the doors opened again.

“Dad! Lynne!”

He stiffened as the word he never quite got used to rang in his ears and Kamila, smelling faintly of grease and oil, flung herself at him.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said breathlessly through her tight hug.

His world softened to this single moment and he returned the hug with a fond smile at the top of her head. She was getting so tall already.

The moment ended all too quickly as she stepped back with a warm smile then caught Lynne by the arm and they were out the door followed by Missile before another word was spoken. They were out and he was left alone, facing Jowd and Alma.

He swallowed. The words were lined up in his throat, careful neutral words. _I’m back_. They stuck there while he felt as dumbstruck as the day he first arrived, the young and eager diplomat, and saw this shining pair before their world cracked apart. And he froze as Alma swept forward, open-armed.

“Welcome home.”

He stood rigid as she embraced him, his arms held taut against old fears until, with a slow cautious motion, he rested them around her. As his throat tightened, so too did his hold until she was pressed against him and they felt each other’s heartbeat.

Jowd stepped forward. His voice rumbled low over them, through him, cutting down every barrier until his breath was choked off. “It’s good to see you.”

And as large arms settled around them in a secure and close embrace, his gates shattered. One shuddering breath broke into a sob until he wept freely over pain and regrets, and loss and sorrow, and hope and love as everything he long held back swept over him.

Somehow they had sunk to the floor in a tangle of limbs and hugs and he was pressed between them, his face buried in Jowd’s chest and Alma’s arms around him.

Somehow he eventually managed to catch his breath and somehow they’d shifted around until he found himself facing Alma once more. He started to raise a shaky hand over his eyes, but Alma caught it and gently moved it away.

“Please let us see you,” she said softly and cupped his cheek. “All of you.”

He drank in the sight of her as she in turn studied him, while he was keenly aware of Jowd’s hands on his shoulders in a firm but gentle grip, one of support and safety.

They had no words just yet. They only sat in a silence that slowly grew warmer until an unsaid decision was reached between them and they rose as one. Their tower awaited and they went together, hand in hand, Jowd on one side and Alma on the other.

They talked about the year and they talked about the past and the present. They talked about the future and they talked about everything in between until the stars shone bright over them, deep, deep into the night until they dozed off against one another to waken to a bright new morning.


	18. Their Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of sappy fluff in Figaro after everything is done

Cabanela slipped out from the shadows, his eyes fixed on the couple standing at the end of the tower. He’d snuck up here multiple times and there was no need for it now, but the old thrill still coursed through him. Only the hopeful night that lay ahead won out in exhilaration.  

As he approached, Alma spun round on guard, then sighed with a smile. “You know you don’t have to sneak around anymore.”

“Fighting a losing battle…” Jowd added.

“Ooold time’s sake, baby,” Cabanela said and joined them at the wall.

He stared out across the desert briefly, but his gaze was quickly drawn by the sky. When day and night returned, when the eternal sunset finally ended, he had stared in wonder at the stars from the deck of the airship. So close yet so far. He made it a point to view them regularly on his travels, but nowhere compared to the blanket of stars above them while the moon hung large, bathing them in silver.

Standing here now his heart ached with joy and old memories. He missed this more than he could say.

Jowd and Alma, ever as one, returned to another old position, stretching out across the stone and heads rested against each other to stargaze. A quick look shot his way was all the invitation he needed and he dropped down to sit by them.

He started to sing their old song, not one he’d sung since so long ago. He’d never been able to bring himself to even hum it while still in Vector, not while they were all split apart. After that it didn’t bear thinking about.

Now the song flowed with ease as he serenaded his couple. His words wove around them and danced away into the night sky.

Too much had happened for a return to the old days, but this was something new wrapped in something old and it was no less welcome.

As he came to an end and his words faded, he paused to gaze fondly at the pair. Despite that, he still missed any warning sign before Jowd suddenly reached out and tugged him down to join them proper.

After only a brief hesitation Cabanela rested his head against Jowd’s shoulder. The words slipped, coming out in a whisper.

“I missed this.”

“We all did,” Alma replied quietly while Jowd’s hand covered his.

The world was right in a perfect moment.


	19. A Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reconnecting after the world is saved

They stood in the middle of the empty and dimly lit ballroom. Cabanela’s fingers curled around Jowd’s while Jowd glanced about them.

“This is ridiculous,” he said.

“I could fiiind more people.”

“Not what I meant and you know it.”

Cabanela’s fingers loosened. “We could dooo something else.” He kept his tone light, tried not to falter. Anything would be welcome; time spent was a blessing, but finding ways to fill that time, ways that weren’t shadowed by the past took thought.

He hadn’t expected to get this far. They were in the general vicinity of the ballroom and he made the tentative offer, watching for any sign that this was a bad idea while hoping this wasn’t something else tainted. That he got him this far could be enough.

_Lead the way baby._

Jowd took Cabanela’s hand in a firmer hold and his arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him in closer. There was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“One,” he said. “Though how you expect us to dance without music is beyond me. I don’t have your abilities.”

Cabanela smiled, covering his surprise, pleasant surprise, but surprise all the same. “All in the rhythm baby!” he chirped while leading him into the steps. “But if you insiiist,” he added and started to hum.

His humming carried them through several steps before he turned to singing softly. An old song from their past, one he sung many times for them up on the tower late into the night. They stepped and spun, taking full advantage of the sizeable and empty room.

They alternated glances with each other and everything but, while they stepped in sync, flowing more smoothly as they went. Cabanela’s voice grew stronger, lilting and weaving around them until they were lost in their own world outside of worries past and present, and outside of current needs and demands on their time.

They danced. And maybe one could become two.


	20. Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A future moment in Figaro for Cabanela and Alma and a rare find

It was still early in Figaro and Alma and Cabanela rode out together while it was cool and Jowd continued to slumber. Cabanela had practically ambushed her while she started to go into her usual morning routine and next thing she knew they were getting chocobos ready and racing out into the sand.

Cabanela stopped ahead of her, his chocobo prancing about in place and she laughed. A bird to suit his rider, indeed.

“The oasis isn’t far,” she said once she caught up. “Do you want to go there?”

“Sounds like a looovely idea to me, baby!”

They set a good pace, less swift than their earlier racing and made it shortly. They both dismounted and let the chocobos drink while they wandered.

Then Cabanela abruptly stopped. Alma gave him a puzzled look, growing to worry, but he suddenly strode forward hurrying to… somewhere.

She trailed after, wondering what caught his attention and soon found out when he knelt before a lone brightly coloured flower with long delicate petals, standing out amongst the scrubby grass and the scattering of more common flowers.

“A Figaro Lily,” Alma gasped. “I haven’t seen one in years. Jowd said they used to be more common a long, long time ago.”

“I remember,” Cabanela said softly.

“They’re so rare. I wondered if they could grow anymore after…” she trailed off. After the world slid to ruin.

“I’d only seen the ooone, the first time you brought me heeere.”

Alma smiled. That was right. And that was when Jowd spoke of them and Cabanela had been just as delighted then if a bit huffy at the lack of further information from Jowd. Some things never changed.

She blinked at the sight of Cabanela’s face. He smiled, but she was certain his eyes looked wet. Was it memories or the sight of this rare bloom alone? It was one question she wasn’t sure she’d be able to guess an answer at.

Then Cabanela rose and almost reverently stepped back. He nodded toward the water. “Shaaall we?”

They went to the water and sat together. Their eyes wandered over the place; it wasn’t as lush as it once was Alma knew. And yet, it wasn’t as bad as some areas had gotten either and she felt it had improved over when they first came back to Figaro. Maybe someday it would return to its former glory.

“Someday we’ll leave,” Cabanela suddenly said. “We’ll have our own place out in the country, and we’ll have flowers all arouuund!” he exclaimed with a broad gesture to emphasise his point. “Colours and life as far as you can see, baby!”

He was bright eyed and for a moment she found herself seeing the young man in his twenties excitedly speaking of all their future possibilities, his hands moving as swiftly as his words, as if to capture their dreams into a reality right then and there.

What a future that turned out to be, she thought, unable to keep the bitterness at bay. But that chapter of their lives was over. They were into something new now. And who was to say there couldn’t be a new future of their dreams?

“It sounds wonderful. Someday we can have that, I hope,” she sighed.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “No hooope about it baby. It will be ours.”

She smiled, suddenly comforted in the knowledge that it would be. Paths may twist and not go as expected, but in the end he had a habit of being right. This was something they could make. This was something they could reach for. In time.

For this moment in this time, she was content with the dream, knowing they shared this moment, that they _could_ share this moment and they would soon return home where she would no doubt get to listen to him regale Jowd with the tale of their find and his dreams for their future home.

Life would be good then, but life was good now too.


	21. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the future when all is well and they can just be. Memories still haunt but they have each other.

Jowd woke to early morning sunlight filtering through their window. He felt a shiver beside him and looked over. Alma was still peacefully asleep, and he wished he could say the same for Cabanela between them. His face was drawn and his breath came more rapidly.

Jowd sat up and sighed. As far as he knew it had been a long time. But when they moved away from the castle, to a new life together, just for the three of them, the nightmares started to creep back.

Too much changed all at once, he supposed. Here was safety. Here, they had peace and quiet, away from the bustle and constant demands on their time at the castle. They had each other. This was too good in a way, so easy to lose. They’d lost everything once before after all. He shook himself. No, he had to remain focused, but he understood.

Cabanela suddenly jerked and sat bolt upright. His hands flew to cover his face as he bowed his head and visibly trembled.

Alma slowly sat up on Cabanela’s other side and exchanged a sad and knowing look with Jowd.

“Cabanela,” Jowd said softly. “We’re here, Alma and I. You’re here with us.”

“You’re here. We’re home,” Alma said.

The word was breathed more than spoken, difficult to make out from behind his hands. “Home.”

“Home,” Jowd repeated. “When you can move your hands, you’ll see it.”

Careful words. Simple statements. Options given but no orders. No, they learned a hard lesson long ago.

_He’d been frozen then, face buried in shaking hands. They told him it was okay. They told him they were here. Jowd told him, “Look at me.” He’d only meant for him to see him, to see that he was here, ground him in their reality._

_The order, and order it was he’d realized, had been obeyed. Cabanela’s hands fell lifelessly into his lap and Jowd was met with a wide-eyed gaze, empty of everything but a deep fear in the back of his eyes._

_It took too long to break him out of it. Any time in such a state was too long and they always remained careful after to do anything they could to avoid putting him there again._

In the end the best thing they could do was wait and be here.

Cabanela’s breathing slowed. Only then did Jowd lay a light hand on his shoulder. A reminder he was here, but nothing more. Hugs could come later when he was ready, when he wouldn’t feel restricted.

How many tense minutes passed? Jowd knew not many; it only felt longer. Then Cabanela dropped his hands and leaned into Jowd’s touch, a silent invitation and a request all at once.

Jowd wrapped his arms around him in a close embrace and held him securely. Alma ran a hand down Cabanela’s back. He was covered by a loose fitting shirt, but Jowd recognised the paths Alma’s fingers trailed over. None of them knew where some of those scars came from. Two years of unknown battles. Perhaps two years of other things they dared not contemplate in _his_ hands.

_He’d been almost shy the first time they’d seen him barebacked again after so very long. Jowd hadn’t thought ‘shy’ and Cabanela could fit in the same room; it was a concept normally so far out of his range it was a wonder he knew the meaning of the word._

_He’d turned away with a soft word almost missed. Jowd was certain he hadn’t meant to let it slip._

_‘Damaged…’_

_Alma came from behind. Her hands trailed over the scars running across his back. Some Jowd could guess at. Others were less obvious._

_He shivered when her fingers came to the end of one and she breathed against his skin._

_‘Your life.’ And followed it with a kiss. Her hands found another path and another soft kiss was planted. ‘Your strength.’_

_She stepped around to his front. She laid a hand over the larger scar in his side they had come to know. A wound that went unknown as they made their desperate leap to the airship below._

_She cupped Cabanela’s cheek with her other hand and gently turned his face to hers. ‘Our beautiful knight.’_

Cabanela shifted in Jowd’s arms. His eyes wandered across Jowd’s face and the shadows seemed to fade from them. His mouth curved into a small smile and he reached a hand around Jowd’s neck. The slightest tug and Jowd got the message.

A gentle kiss first, then another with more strength and more awareness of each other. And a third before Cabanela turned to Alma. She rested her hand on his chest.

“Good morning, dearest to our hearts,” she said before kissing him as well. One, two, three. Fair share for them all of course.

Cabanela smiled fully, added another quick kiss to each of their foreheads and sprung out of bed.

“Good moooorning indeed to the loveliest people in this world.”

“And yet you can’t get away fast enough,” Jowd commented lightly.

“Of couuurse, baby! You know I don’t like bein’ late.” He pirouetted out of the room leaving husband and wife.

They exchanged a look of mingled relief and affection before sharing their own kisses between them. Then they rose and trailed after him into the kitchen.

Three cups were laid out and the kettle heated on the stove under Cabanela’s supervision. Jowd and Alma took a seat at the scrubbed wooden table standing near the open window. A vase decorated the centre containing a single rose.

_The rose bush had been Cabanela’s first endeavour in their new home. It seemed a withered thing, dying at best. Jowd had thought it already dead. Cabanela thought otherwise and had gone at it with a single-minded determination. Jowd earned at least one pinched finger when his attention on his task lapsed to focus on Cabanela. He was… beautiful, every movement filled with tender grace._

_One morning he’d come out to find Cabanela standing in front of that rose bush, face lit with pure joy. A single rose had bloomed._

_Soon a few more followed and he assured them with a look of pride toward the bush that it wouldn’t be long before it flourished._

Jowd felt Cabanela step behind him and his arms came down around his shoulders. His cheek rested against his hair with a contented sigh. Alma wrapped her arm around one of Jowd’s and her other hand slid up to rest over Cabanela’s.

A breeze wafted through the window. Bird song sounded from outside. They were content to quietly bask in each other’s presence for this moment of tranquility. A moment just for them that they could stretch for as long as they wanted.


	22. Rooftop Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Future fluff on their cottage rooftop

The other two slept. Cabanela sat on their rooftop, cupping a mug of tea while his gaze drifted across the scattered pinpricks of stars. There was a chill bite to the air and he wondered when the nights might grow warmer again.

Before, desert nights were always cooler, welcome after the day’s heat. It was never worth much to go out at night in Vector unless he got well away from the city, which could bring its own problems. He’d hoped for better in the countryside, but no such luck. Yet, he reassured himself.

The sensible thing would have been to stay in bed, despite the lack of sleep. Often being awake in their presence was restful enough in its own right. Other times he felt too restless or craved space and came out to the roof instead.

There was the sound of a heavy footfall behind him. Cabanela continued to let his gaze wander. Let Jowd come to him.

He did, settling behind him and he let his arms fall gently around Cabanela. Cabanela blinked at the unusual, if welcome, display of forwardness. Then he felt Jowd’s breath against his hair—a slow inhale and a slower exhale. He sought one of his hands with his own. _Right here, baby._

There was no need for words. Cabanela hummed faint snatches of song until he finally breathed out two words filled with warmth.

“My King.”

There was a huff of breath in a near laugh. “Don’t tell Kamila that after all the effort she put to dethroning us.”

Cabanela leaned back into Jowd’s chest with a smile. “I did say myyy. I still owe her something for that deed.”

“Your judgement continues to be peculiarly questionable.”

Cabanela set aside his mug to tug gently at Jowd’s beard. “I'm not the one makin’ an error in judgement heeere, baby.”

“Maybe not such a bad thing,” Jowd replied, his voice holding a startling note of sincerity. His hold around Cabanela tightened.  

“My call to make as long as you want me,” Cabanela said with a lightness that covered the uncertainty he hadn’t yet been able to quell, while his words were chosen more carefully than his frivolous tone conveyed. He wasn’t _him_. It was up to Jowd and Alma in the end and it always would be.

None of his innermost worries could contain the sudden surge of warmth at Jowd’s simple reply.

“Always.”


End file.
